


Patnja

by impossiblyimprobable



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Understanding John, pretending you're ok when you're not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblyimprobable/pseuds/impossiblyimprobable
Summary: Patnja - a Serbian word for continuous pain or agony."I thought I wouldn't … make it back," he says finally, letting it out. It feels like he's been carrying a few heavy weights and one of them has dropped away.





	Patnja

John is making that risotto, the "thing with peas" Sherlock used to claim he likes. Sherlock is staring at the Monthly Medical but not reading it. He hasn't turned the page since he sat down. John is listening, closely. Sherlock's been on the verge of saying something but either can't or won't and John wants to hear it when he does. 

Thankfully the risotto is in the oven and John is in his chair, pretending to read the paper himself before Sherlock speaks. "I thought I wouldn't … make it back," he says finally, letting it out. It feels like he's been carrying a few heavy weights and one of them has dropped away. They aren't all gone of course, buf he has said one of the few things he didn't want John to know. John might leave. John is currently putting the paper down, Sherlock continues staring at his own page, unable to read the words, staring at the diagram of the surgeon's tools in the deep tissue of the brain. "I accepted I would die there," Sherlock continues, "I'm glad you didn't know I was alive. Better that I killed myself on my own terms instead of. Dying like an animal in some dark corner." 

John is listening, Sherlock knows he's looking at him but trying not to make him feel stared at. 

John doesn't seem interested in leaving like all Sherlock's fears tell him he will - if he really knew. 

If he really knew what they did. John knows most of it. The important medical bits. The scars that caused the infection, the nerve damage because Sherlock couldn't reach. The fact Sherlock doesn't like being approached or grabbed suddenly because his mind still doesn't know any better. Doesn't know he's not back  _ there _ . 

But Sherlock feels a weight lift that he's told John. He's not ready to tell John that he knew their names (vaguely - probably not real names. What they called each other), the feel of their hands, their scent. He shudders away from that memory, something he would rather forget. The reason why he … he can't tell John about Antonio, he just can't do that. Not yet. 

It feels like he betrayed John somehow, even though there was no agreement he shouldn't. Antonio was to prove he could do something that he still had a value, but that failed, completely. It wasn’t because Antonio wasn’t … nice or did something that he shouldn’t have. He still clearly feels bad about it. Some level of guilt because of the extra portions. He assumed Sherlock had run from an abusive partner, at least he was that dim, thankfully. John isn’t that dim. Never has been. 

Sherlock has paused long enough that it's clear he's finished. John is nodding, not sure what to say to him. "I'm glad you didn't," John says carefully. John is particularly careful with the way he words things, so his meaning can't be mistaken. He's said similar before but he wants to make it clear that even if Sherlock wanted to die over there John wanted him here and always would. Somehow the meaning is different now because Sherlock would always tell himself, _but if John knew he wouldn't feel that way._ The oven dings, and John rises to get it out of the oven, waiting until it cools enough to still be warm before dishing it up onto a plate. Small gestures of courtesy that Sherlock had never asked for, but needed. 


End file.
